


To Behold a Future Forgotten

by MrsAlwaysWrite



Series: The Difference Between Champagne and Rum [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Class Differences, F/M, Racial slurs, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Swearing, pre WWI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAlwaysWrite/pseuds/MrsAlwaysWrite
Summary: Her last words to him felt seared, branded into his soul. Like a kiss from fate, he somehow knew they would come to pass. No matter what happened in this goddamn war, he would survive. He had too.“I’ll find you, Angel.” He whispered, a promise to himself and her. Tightening his fist around the necklace, he turned and started back towards Camden Town.
Relationships: Alfie Solomons/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Difference Between Champagne and Rum [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562026
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	To Behold a Future Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Here is part 3, loves!   
> Please let me know what you think and if you are enjoying the series. I'm honestly having such a blast writing it, i would love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> Just a random comment but in canon, Alfie is about 26 when WWI starts. So in Peaky Blinders he is in his 30s. In this series, he is about 20 when WWI begins. Not sure anyone would have noticed or cares but just figured I would point it out.

**-1914-**

It was a good day. No one had managed to fuck it up yet. An extra wad of notes bounced along with each step in his pocket. He would have whistled a tune but the sound would summon the dogs in all of London and probably some coppers thinking an alarm was being raised. So he restrained himself to a faint humming as he walked down the street. He did not smile though. Alfie Solomons never smiled…at least in public. He rolled the wad of notes in his pocket, overly pleased. Another Jewish store had asked for protection from Alfie and his lads after getting their windows busted out by the wop lads. It was a shame really, for Alfie liked the grocery and his family. The old man always “snuck” a piece of candy to any children who came through his store door. Had been doing it for years and Alfie fondly remembered going, as a child, in hopes of getting a sweet treat. But another place willing to pay him to keep the wops away and a legitimate reason to get revenge on those Italian cocksuckers for busting up a place under his protection…it was enough to make him almost smile in public. Almost.

It also felt good being his own boss. No one telling him what to do or where to go. Shame really what happened to the last man he called ‘boss’. The man made some poor choices and not long after his body was retrieved from the river. Real fuckin’ shame. Alfie and his lads made sure to pick up the pieces left behind before someone else could rise up and try to take charge of Camden. No, this was Alfie’s neighborhood.

Since it was such a fine autumn day and Alfie was in a good mood, he decided to share the joy with the one woman who meant the world to him. That was how he found himself walking down this particular posh street in London. His mother claimed this was the best bakery in all of England. When his father was alive, he occasionally would surprise his mother with her favorite scone from there. The simple gesture would always bring an extra brilliant smile to his mother’s face, and probably a good romp in the sheets for his father. Since his father’s death, money had been too tight to spend on little splurges like that. Now, Alfie had some extra change in his pocket…and he enjoyed seeing his mother smile for something good he did instead of chastise him for the wrong. Plus maybe this would distract her from harping on him to find a nice Jewish girl and think about settling down. Something Alfie did **not** have time for. Nor could he help comparing every girl his mother paraded in front of him to a pair of gemstone eyes and mischievous smile. Alfie pushed that thought away. No use dwelling on that, it had been two years and he had a feeling the only time he would ever see her now would be in his dreams.

***

The bakery was large with a tea room attached, full of patrons dressed in nice day dresses and clean cut suits. The walls were a light wood with dark paneling and gold trim, a distinct coloring that made the place feel bright and welcoming. The large windows also added to the overall feeling of warmth. Counters practically lined the main bakery, covered in different pastries, delicacies, and confectionaries. The aroma of warm bread, sugar and black tea was enough to make Alfie’s mouth start to water. He had only come a few times before with his father when he was young but the place seemed just as grand as it did then.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a pair of women observing him warily from alongside the counter; like they were concerned he would steal their purses and take off running right there. He stood out from the other patrons in his white shirt, black trousers and black hat. Although he did not scream ‘poor’ like some in his neighborhood, his attire certainly stated he was not used to the finery the rest of the patrons lived in. With a quick curse muttered under his breath about toffs, he approached one of the many counters, eyeing the pastries to find what he came looking for. He could see one of the shop girls in uniform dawdling, pretending to fiddle with something instead of approaching him. Casually, he placed his elbow on the counter and leaned against it. He planned on making himself comfortable if they were going to make him wait. He had no plans on leaving yet. They did not know him, but he planned on teaching them how stubborn he could be.

A rambunctious round of laughter drew his gaze to the seated patrons on the other side of the bakery, in the tea room. A group of three older women sat together, cackling about something, most likely gossip, looking like they did not have a care in the world. Which they probably did not. Their rich husbands would not care what their wives did as long as dinner was ready with a cigar and whiskey after to end the day.

He rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers on the pristine glass display case impatiently. He was ready to leave but he refused to leave empty handed. The sounds of other exchanges and conversations swirled around him, business commencing. Yet he stood alone and ignored, like a solitary, forgotten island. His mind wandered to the new protection deal made today. To cover that grocery he would need at least another three good lads. He needed to talk to Ishmael and see if he knew anyone, and not some new lad just off his mum’s tit. Too many of those around already. He needed men to keep the wops at bay. Yeah, Ishmael should know of a few. If not, perhaps his _zayde_ would. The old man seemed to know everyone in London. He only had a month left to get things sorted and prepared. Only a month…

“How can I help you, sir?”

Alfie blinked, realizing a middle-aged man stood on the other side of the counter staring at him expectantly. “Ah, yeah…them scones there…yeah, two of ‘em.”

“Of course. Will there be anything else today?”

“No, that s’it.” He watched the man carefully place the two scones indicated in a paper bag to go. “How much?”

The man placed the bag on the counter. “Your expenses have been covered.”

He blinked slowly. “What?”

“I said, your expenses have been…”

“Yeah, yeah, I fuckin’ got that. What I wanna know is how. I don’t need no charty or nothin’. I got me money ‘ere.” Alfie pulled out the wad of notes, ready to pay more than double just to teach these people not everyone wanted their hand-outs.

“I understand, sir. One of the patrons here told me to charge her for whatever you want. She was most adamant… said you were an old friend.”

“Who?”

“The young lady in the burgundy dress, blonde hair by the window. Please don’t start…”

Alfie ignored the shopkeeper as he turned around, eyes narrowing as he searched for this ‘old friend’. Looking towards the window, he saw her sitting at a table with five other women of varying ages but obvious wealth. His heart fluttered uncontrollably, his breathing momentarily ceased as their eyes met. With a smirk, she scooted her chair back and got up, moving through the labyrinth of tables and patrons towards him. She was still so beautiful. Her burgundy dress clung tightly to her chest and draped softly downward to swish with each movement, the hem just below her knees. The slight V-neck was accentuated with the ivory flounce and draped faux collar tie. An ivory banded drop waist finished off the simple yet polished day dress. As she sashed closer, a small smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes, he could not help but admire how she filled out her feminine form. He would still label her as slender and graceful but there were more defined curves than the prior times they had met. Questions began to formulate the closer she approached. Namely where had she been these past two years. Damn propriety and social courtesy, she was not getting out of his sights until his questions were answered. Fucking hell though, it was downright sinful how gorgeous she looked.

“Good afternoon, is everything alright? You are not giving the lovely Mr. Miller here a hard time are you, Alfie?” She placed her hand on Alfie’s shoulder before looking at the shopkeeper behind the counter, who stood watching the two carefully. “You will have to excuse him, Mr. Miller. My friend can be rough around the edges, he is a good man though. One day he will rule London, you can place a bet on that.”

“Of course, Miss. If you will excuse me. Let me know if there is anything else you are in need of.” He dipped his head before slipping away to help another customer waiting at the counter further down.

“Hello, Alfie.”

“’ello, Miss Sarah.”

She rolled her eyes, smile still on her lips. “You do not get to call me that. To you, I am just Sarah. So what are you doing here?” She snatched up the paper bag and peeked inside. “Ooo…those are delicious. Special night for you and a lady friend?”

He snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, these for me mum.”

Her eyes softened and she carefully put the bag back on the counter. “She will love them. How are you? I do not see any blood on your knuckles so that seems like a good start.”

“Yeah, yeah. No one insulted me yet. Still enough hours today, that could change. What you doin’ here?”

She sighed, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Believe me, I am not here by choice. Those ladies could even make a corpse cry with how boring and dull their conversation is. I was contemplating either stabbing myself or someone else to escape.”

“Tis a shame to go to that extreme, yeah? That s’ladies bathrooms are for, right? Go disappear for a while. Say you got sick or somethin’.”

“Did that last week. I need a new strategy.” She paused, toying with the small, gold pendant necklace she wore. “You look well, Alfie.”

A twinkle in his eye, he reached forward and took her hand. What did he have to lose at this point? He never thought he would see her again yet here she stood before him, looking like a vision in the flesh. With a wink, he laid a kiss on the back of her hand. “You s’beautiful as ever, Sarah…or should I call you Miss Byron?”

She raised a single eyebrow yet did not snatch her hand out of his grasp.

“Did some investigatin’ of me own, yeah. Torment to not know your name. Asked a few questions, knocked a few heads, even had to fuckin’ walk into a church…” he pretended to shudder violently making her smile, “…not easy lemme say but I’m a determined bastard when I want, right. Eventually I learn that you s’only daughter of Lord Byron, member of Parliament and chief importer of tea from fuck knows where all but loads places, yeah. Family business and all that. Fuckin’ rich don’t even describe him none.”

“So you learned my secret…and what do you think of this posh girl now?”

“Might make kidnappin’ you a bit harder coz your dad, right, could pay every copper and scum to find you…so I gotta plan that out well.” He paused at her chuckle, entwining their fingers. “You still me angel though. That won’t change none.”

“Alfie…I…” She bit her lower, plump lip as she quickly cast her gaze over to the women she had been sitting with. “I need to get back.” Hesitantly she released his hand. “Can I see you soon? I’ll be busy for a bit but after…can we meet?”

“Ah, s’problem there. I leave next month…for France…for the war.”

Her eyes widened and mouth dropped open slightly. It was a truth he tried not to think about too often himself. War. Some of his mates cheered and were excited to leave, to come back as men with glory and honor. Something churned in Alfie’s gut about the ordeal. He could not help but wonder how many of them would come back alive, himself included.

“Me brother signed up without sayin’ nothin’. Fuckin’ idiot. So I gotta go watch his back, make sure he s’alright, for me mum’s sake.”

“Oh, Alfie…” She moved forward, one of her hands cupped his cheek. He could not help but lean into her touch. They stared at one another, he could see thoughts racing in her eyes and it was not long before a decision was made. “Wait here.”

Turning abruptly, she walked purposefully over to her table and grabbed her clutch sitting on it. She murmured something which seemed to cause an uproar amongst the women she had been with. One of them even reached over to grab Sarah’s wrist but with a sharp remark and a twist, she forced the older woman to let her go. As she walked back towards him, he met the eyes of the women watching, their expressions ranging from horror to disapproval to disgust. Fuck them. Because he could, he tipped his cap at them, a smirk plastered on his face. One of the women drew the sign of the cross over her chest.

Sarah waved down one of the shop girls as she returned to Alfie’s side, quickly ordering some pastries in a sharp tone that had the girl obeying rapidly.

“This is a dishonor! Do not think we will forget this, Sarah Byron! Disgraceful child! Wait until your father hears about this!” One of the women loudly called over, steam practically pouring out of her ears.

Alfie turned his body to fully face the old hag, and partially block her view of Sarah. He did not know what was going on but that did not mean he would not defend her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at the woman until she sat down in a huff, refusing to make eye contact with him. He noted her face, a habit he formed when someone pissed him off.

Soon as the shop girl finished Sarah’s order, she snatched the bag and headed straight for the door, brushing past a middle-aged couple stepping in. Without delay, Alfie grabbed his own scones and followed after her. She stopped just beside the door, eyes closed, her hands gripped the bag and her clutch enough to turn her knuckles white. After a long moment, she opened those emerald eyes and smiled at him, all previous tension gone.

“Where should we go? Where were you heading to after this?”

He watched her, brows furrowed slightly wondering if she was truly fine or putting on a mask. “Ah, me flat. Give these to me mum and talk to Ishmael.”

“Can I come?”

“Really? S’nothin’ special.”

“Do I look like someone who cares. Do not answer that. I just…” She looked across the street for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. “I want to hear what you have been up to. With the war…let’s just get away. Pretend the world does not exist for a few hours. Be whoever we want to be.”

“S’alright, love, alright. Lemme warn you, yeah, it’s a long walk from here.” He did not mind for himself but with those kitten heels she had on, he was more concerned for her. Plus the streets of Camden were not known for their cleanliness.

Suddenly she placed her hands on her hips, gazing up and down the street. Alfie could not help himself as he subtly eyed those hips of hers she so kindly highlighted with her hands on them.

“Let’s go.” Slipping her arm through his, she started striding further up the street. He chocked down a laugh as he was being man-handled by her, it felt reminiscent of when his mum would drag him on errands with her when he was a young lad. They approached a carriage, the driver smoking a cigarette while the brown gelding pawed at the cobblestones.

“Are you waiting on someone?” Sarah asked.

“No, Miss.”

“Good. Take us to Camden Town.” As if this was a normal occurrence, she released Alfie and gracefully climbed up into the carriage. She looked like a princess, head held high, above those lower than her here in the streets of London. Alfie remained frozen to the ground, not because he was afraid. Never had he been on a horse-drawn carriage, his family certainly could never afford that. No, this was a glimpse into her life. How easily she commanded the driver and the casual way she sat herself upon the luxury this was. This was a life she had been born into. So vastly different than his own.

Looking down at him, her emerald eyes narrowed. “Alfie Solomons, you get that ass of yours up here before I come down and beat it. I would hate to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

That earned a laugh and head shake from him. In the moment he did not care that he was in public. Sarah, his angel, always kept him on his toes…and he loved it. “Yes, me lady.”

Quickly he climbed up and the driver took off. Never once did the driver stare at the two young people nor seem bothered by their obvious class difference. He kept his head straight forward, clucking his tongue at the horse occasionally, cigarette hanging perched between his lips. The carriage seat was wide enough for two people to sit comfortably next to one another but for Alfie and Sarah, this left several inches between them. Something Alfie was not a fan of.

Without a thought, he swung his arm over and behind her, not even bothering to hide his actions. Still looking straight ahead, she slid over slightly so their shoulders were touching. He could see the corners of her lips slanted upward, trying to hide the smile that wanted to emerge. That intoxicating scent of hers filled his nose. Anytime over the past two years that he smelled lavender, he could not help but think of her. An annoyance on occasion. Yet it was never quite right to match what came off her skin.

“So who ‘em ladies you with? Seemed real proper and boring.”

“Some family friends and acquittances. I was supposed to make an excellent impression as the daughter of Lord Byron and be the epitome of a sophisticated, educated young lady…or so my father said.”

“Yeah? Hate to say but I fuckin’ doubt that ‘appened. One of ‘em looked ready to faint, right, you walkin’ off with me gutter self.”

As she chuckled he could feel her fully relax against him. He tightened his arm around her, encouraging her closer to him.

“I would much rather waste away an afternoon with you then spend another minute with them.” She elbowed him in the side as he smirked at her. “Shut up! That’s the God’s honest truth. Damn. They are so superficial and boring. We spent the last twenty minutes talking about what type of flowers one of them should use as centerpieces for the charity event she is hosting…and before that! How scandalous dresses are becoming now with young ladies showing their legs! I thought my ears would start bleeding!”

He laughed at her, her nose crinkling in distain for those women’s company. “I’m sure its been torture for you, eh?”

In mock anger, she tried to reach over and smack his chest but his other hand shot out and grabbed it before contact was made. Carefully watching her, he entwined their fingers, never dropping her gaze. Perhaps it was the proximity, her face only inches from his or holding her hand. Perhaps it was being above the rest of London in the carriage that made him feel like a king. Perhaps it was because in a month the likelihood of his death skyrocketed. Whatever is was, he asked the question that had been burning unanswered in his soul for the past two years.

“What ‘appened, love? Where you disappear to?”

She sighed, her tone matching his in softness. “America. My father sent my mother and me there to visit some family and to try and strengthen business connections.” She squeezed his hand in apology. “There was no forewarning. Maybe for my mum but he told me one morning that my mum and I were leaving the next day.”

“Why are you back?”

“It was time.” She replied evasively.

There was more to that reason, he could feel it and it itched at him but he could tell it was not something she wanted to talk about. They sat in silence for a minute, both absorbed in their own thoughts before Alfie broke it with a cheeky grin. “How often did you run away from coppers there? Can’t see you stayin’ outta trouble, yeah, even across the pond. Trouble just follows you, must be your middle name, innit? Miss Sarah Trouble Byron…mmm, sounds ‘bout fuckin’ right.”

“I beg to differ, I am a proper lady of class and sophistication.” She teased right back. “I think it is you who has corrupted my morals, a negative influence, tainting my lily white reputation.”

“Yeah, love, yeah, and it wasn’t you who broke me outta handcuffs and ran off with me that first time we met. Actually, that bit would have been helpful last year when I was in a spot of trouble.” He leaned close, bringing his mouth right to her ear. “And in the theatre, I sure as hell ain’t done that before you but believe me, I still think about it and have to use my hand to…relieve the tension.”

Her free hand trailed up his thigh as she turned her head so they were nose to nose. “Poor Alfie, must be quite the struggle. I confess, I do miss the taste of your...lips.”

“Oh yeah? Been thinkin’ ‘bout me too, eh?”

She bit her lip, eyes still staring into his and it took everything in him to not crash his lips against hers in a frenzy. Desire and temptation swelled around them, its own type of music making their hearts beat in unison. Opening her mouth to answer, she closed the gap, their lips barely touching.

“Miss! We reached Camden. Where to now?”

The tension eased slightly between them as the driver’s voice disrupted the music.

“Where to, Alfie?” She whispered, not having drawn away.

He cleared his throat, thoughts jumbled as he called out to the driver. “Next street over.”

The two stayed a lips distance apart, unable to tear themselves away but also soaking in the elation of being so close again after so long.

“And if I said I think about you every night…as I touch myself?” Her lips ghosted over his to place the lightest kiss on his cheek before she pulled back, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. I’m right sure you like torturin’ me, yeah.”

“Mr. Solomons, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Temptress.”

“Oh no, that is only after dark. Now I am your innocent angel.” She winked, dragging her hand back down his thigh.

“Fuck.” He dropped his head on her shoulder. “Just wait till I get you alone, yeah. We’ll see which comes out, the temptress or the angel.”

The carriage lurched to a halt. Alfie slowly got out, a certain body part at an uncomfortable half-mast. Turning to help Sarah, he saw her paying the driver before turning towards him.

As he opened his mouth to protest, she silenced him with a pointed look. Annoyed and amused he reached out a hand and helped her out. He snagged their bags before looking to the driver once again. The man gave him a nod and wink before facing forward and flicking the reins. Maybe him and Sarah had not been as indiscrete as he thought.

“C’mon.” He tucked her arm through his as he led them down his streets. Sure, he could have let the carriage bring them closer to his flat but he wanted to minimize the attention the two of them received and a carriage would have done the opposite in this part of town.

“How far away is your flat?”

“Not far, few blocks away. Regrettin’ comin’ with me?”

“Never. I am just hoping it does not rain.”

He glanced up, having noted the darkening sky earlier and the saturation in the air. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hurried their steps, not wanting to get caught in the rain himself.

Unfortunately fate had other plans.

A drizzle caught them two blocks away so when they finally made it to Alfie’s complex, they were both wet but thankfully not soaked through. Their damp clothes clung to their bodies like a second skin but instead of being aggravated, they were both smiling at one another. He led her up the stairs to the second floor of the expansive brick building. Luckily his flat was one of the end units so he did not have to parade her past the next twelve flats so everyone could stare and ogle at her.

Quickly he unlocked the flat and pulled her in, making sure to lock it behind them. He set the bags of treats on the small kitchen counter and moved to the furnace, tossing some coal in to warm the drafty place up. The warmth felt good on his hands and face, biting back the chill seeping into his skin.

Turning around he watched Sarah slowly make her way down the short hallway towards the large room that held the kitchen and living space. Her eyes scanned the flat yet he could not tell from her expression what she thought of it. The flat was simple and small, truly nothing special. The walls were bare, showcasing the fading paint and few spots of exposed brick. Barely any furniture to speak of, besides the kitchen table and few chairs. On the opposite side of the open room was the doors to the bathroom and bedroom, both small room in their own right. He did not need much, this place was just for him to crash and get away from others if need be. If anyone ever came over it was his mum, Ishmael or occasionally his _zayde_ to chat. Hosting was not something he enjoyed.

“It ain’t much buts it’s a place to lay me head down without being bothered.”

She nodded as she placed her clutch on the small kitchen table. Finally her eyes settled on him. “Do you have something I could wear? At least until my dress dries…unless you suggest an alternative.”

“Right, yeah, wouldn’t want you catch a cold. Likely be the death of you.” He slowly ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble there, as he blatantly and suggestively dragged his gaze over her body. Rising, he moved closer until he crowed her against the side of the table. “Sure I got a shirt or somethin’ you can wear, though I’ve ‘eard body heat warms you up faster, yeah? I can share mine with you if you’d like.”

“Oh, I am positive it would be quite the sacrifice for you. You deserve a medal for your efforts.” Her hands roamed over his chest until she began unbuttoning his shirt, tantalizingly slow, one at a time while never looking away from his gaze.

He could feel the heat radiating off her body, a warmth he had every intention of dwelling in and letting seep deep into his bones. His hands settled on her hips, thumbs drawing circles over her damp dress. “Mmm…sacrifice. Just helpin’ an old friend out cos I’m such a nice man.”

“A true gentleman.”

“If you say so, love.” Unable to stand it anymore, he pressed his lips to hers. It started off slow and sweet but quickly deepened when she opened her mouth to trace his lips with her tongue. Roughly he picked her up and set her on the table, moving to stand between her legs. Their breathing turned to pants, lips and hands moving over one another’s face and body. Alfie was not a virgin but never had any of the past girls he had been with caused this intense reaction in him. With Sarah, it was as if every cell of his body cried out for more. To know her as only a lover does, to breathe her in and let her scent be the incense around him, to hold her very soul in his hands for surely then he could truly understand her and please her as he desired to. She was his angel and his curse, for none could ever compare to her.

His shirt slipped off just after he pushed her dress up her thighs as far as it would go. He paused, mouth against her throat as her hands tugged his hair. “Love, tell me right now if you wanna stop cos once we get goin’, I ain’t so sure I’ll be able to.”

“Don’t stop, Alfie.”

Her command shot right through to his cock and it took all of his willpower to not just fuck her right there. No, this was his angel and she deserved to be treated like one…mostly. A few naughty, wicked things aside. He pawed at the buttons on the back of her dress while she tugged on his belt and trousers. A frantic need for one another consumed them and clothes could not be shed fast enough.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Alfie paused, unsure if he was hearing things. Who would be knocking on his door right now?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He groaned, cupping one of her breasts and rubbing the hardening nipple.

“Ignore it.” Her hands gripped his ass possessively, drawing him closer, while she sucked on his neck.

“Yes, Miss.” There was no desire to leave this moment. He needed her and to his surprise, she needed him too. How long had he dreamt of this moment? Fantasized about what she would feel like under him? As he tweaked her nipple, she sighed out his name, and with that all blood flow rushed straight to his cock.

A louder, more demanding knocking interrupted once again.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

“I am not opposed, although you were doing so well keeping the blood off your knuckles.” She teased, leaning back.

“Don’t move, yeah. I’ll get rid of ‘em.” He took two steps back, watching Sarah and absolutely loving how she looked on his table. Hair messed up, dress hitched up and askew, lips swollen and cheeks rosy, she looked like perfection. Maybe after this he needed to go to the synagogue and give a prayer of gratitude. He must be doing someone right for God to bless him like this. First though, he needed to take care of whatever bastard was at his door interrupting his time. Heads would be rolling if it was not some kind of emergency. Yeah, he could feel his temper rising and whoever was on the other side of the door would regret it. He started towards the door, hell bent on making this idiot regret knocking. Last second, he grabbed his shirt off the floor and slipped it on, not buttoning it. He did not plan to keep it on for long.

He opened the door, ready to spew venom on the unsuspecting victim, only for the words to die on his tongue.

“ ‘ello, mum.”

“Alfie, _zun_!” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her petite frame forcing her to rise on her toes to reach him. “Your laundry is done, yeah.”

“Um, mum, now isn’t a…”

“Shhh…I’ll just drop off quick, yeah, then leave you be.” Maneuvering around him like a slippery eel, she squeezed herself plus the basket on her hip past Alfie and down the short hallway.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Alfie muttered, closing the door and following the only woman he allowed to trample over him. She still did his laundry and fed him frequently so he could not complain too much. His hardened cock did complain though.

Coming around the corner, his mum jabbered away at him, words like unceasing raindrops in a storm. Her graying hair was pulled back and she wore her customary patterned apron over her dress, looking every bit like a housewife coming over for tea and gossip. Honestly, he tuned out half of what she was saying when he noticed Sarah was not sitting on the table anymore. He glanced around and noticed his bedroom door shut. She must of dashed into there when he was at the door. Momentarily resigning himself, he sat down at the table, running his hands over his face. He needed to shave soon, most of the other lads did not shave but he preferred the clean feeling. It made him feel less lower-class, which was irrational.

Just as suddenly as the fountain of words and gossip began from his mum, it ended abruptly. Alfie looked up, confused. His mum froze just next to the sink, staring to the side in the direction of his bedroom. His eyes followed and widened at the sight.

Sarah stood in the threshold of his bedroom, the door open behind her now. What jumped out was she stood barefoot, stockings gone, with his long, black coat covering her and buttoned all the way up. It should not be possible to make an old coat look so enticing. His mind immediately jumped to wondering what she was wearing underneath.

“Ohhh…” His mum softly exhaled, then spoke as if to herself. “Mrs. Cohen said she’d seen a young lady with you. I didn’t believe her.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Solomons. My name is Sarah. It’s a pleasure to meet you and see the woman responsible for raising such a fine man as Alfie.” Replaced was the teasing, fiendish Sarah he knew; and who stood before and greeted his mum was Sarah Byron, the debutant and socialite. As she moved forward, hand extended to shake his mum’s hand, everything about her screamed poise and intentionality. Alfie was in awe. How easily that mask slipped on so she could become whoever the situation called for.

After shaking the hand of his somewhat stunned mum, Sarah continued talking as if this was not the strangest occurrence, nor had been sighing his name minutes ago while on his table. “I sincerely apologize if I am intruding on something. Alfie was a kind enough to allow me to escape the rain here and allow me to wear his coat to warm up. That little bit was just enough to send a chill to my bones.”

And with that, he could visibly see his mum’s hesitation towards the strange lady in her son’s flat vanish. “Oh! You poor dear, sit down by the furnace, warm up. Has Alfie offered you tea to warm up? Course not. Lemme get some water boiling, yeah. Have that chill gone in no time.” Just as suddenly as she stopped moving, she started tearing around his kitchen. Grabbing the barely-ever-used kettle, then complaining about the dust on it, she started to boil water and searched his mostly empty cupboards for some biscuits to go with the tea. She glanced at the bags on the counter but left them alone to his surprise.

“Tell me, love, how do you know my Alfie?”

“Oh, old friends you could say. He saved me from some lads with ill intentions, so perhaps my protector would be better?”

His mum huffed, shaking her head. “Some of those boys these days, even the men too, don’t have their heads on straight. Tell me about yourself, Sarah, right? Are you from here?”

“I was but I have spent the last two years in America. Only just arrived back last week.”

“America! Hear that, Alfie! World traveler, yeah. What were you doin’ there?”

And so began the most uncomfortable twenty minutes of Alfie’s life, so far. It did not help that his clothes were still damp but he refused to leave his mum and Sarah alone. Who knew the trouble those two could get into together. His mum and Sarah chatted easily on either side of him at the small table. The steam from their tea cups swirled between them creating the illusion of comfortability and ease. On one hand he learned much about Sarah’s time in America and her travels. No, what made the entire situation uncomfortable was as soon as his mum sat down, the temptress appeared to torment him. Sarah rubbed her bare leg against his trousers. He pretended to reach under the table to adjust his trouser leg and grabbed her leg to still her movements. That was his mistake. Her warm, stocking-free skin met his bare hand and his cock hardened immediately. He shifted, keeping his hand under the table, but slowly drew it up over her knee and up her silky thigh. The whole time Sarah acted as if no indiscretions were occurring under the table, answering his mum’s questions easily and sipping on her tea.

Either his mum paid no mind to how close Alfie ended up scooting his chair to the temptress on his left, or she pretended not to notice. He hoped for the first. The sinful images that played on repeat in his mind were enough to make even a prostitute blush. Rubbing slow, sensual circles with his thumb on her thigh, it took everything to not throw his mum out and have Sarah laid out before him on the table. Somehow Sarah remained poised and graceful as ever, smiling and laughing along with his mum.

Finally, once Alfie was positive his blood could not decide between his brain and his cock, his mum declared that she needed to get back to her flat to start dinner. Alfie sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward. He followed his mum to the door, promising to clean up the teapot and cups and not let them sit around.

His mum cupped his cheek after giving it a quick peck. She spoke quietly in Russian, something she only did if she thought it important enough. “She seems like a good girl, a good friend but remember Alfie…she s’not Jewish, yeah?”

“I know, mum.”

She nodded one last time as if debating his words before she strolled away towards the staircase. He waited until she vanished before closing the door and moving back towards the main area. Coming around the corner, he froze, brain unable to process what his eyes were seeing.

Sarah must have cleared off the table and put everything on the counter, but that only received a split second of Alfie’s attention. No, what held his attention was the angel with gemstone eyes and a mischievous smile slowly unbuttoning his coat, standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes had him pinned, unable to move, beguiled to only ever see her. The last button undone, she lazily allowed the coat to fall from her shoulders and land behind her. Underneath had been hidden a cream colored silk slip with a hint of lace on the hem.

He unconsciously rubbed his mouth and jaw as his eyes soaked in the angelic being before him. Everything about her looked so soft, from her skin to her long blonde hair cascading down her back to her delicate features and to that silky slip that teased him, daring him to explore underneath. It felt almost sacra-religious for his calloused, dirty hands to touch something so pure, so perfect, so lovely. Then both his nightmare and fantasy happened. After easing the straps off her shoulders, the slip dropped down to pool around her bare feet.

“Alfie, come here.” That sweet, soft voice purred and broke whatever spell she had placed on him.

His feet brought him before her in three long strides. The floodgates had been released when she spoke his name. Their mouths met, practically devouring one another, and their hands roamed over their bodies. Somewhere amongst the passion, he could feel her tugging at his shirt. Taking the hint, he quickly ripped his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor as her hands started on his trousers.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He smirked. “Yes, my lady.” Stepping out of his trousers, he picked her up, her legs immediately wrapping around his waist, so their mouths could fuse together once more. Somehow they made it to his small bedroom without causing damage to anything. Not that either would have noticed in the moment. Gently he set her on the bed, the frame creaking slightly betraying its age.

“Alfie...don’t make me wait.”

“Oh I plan on returning the favor…the tease you were under the table. Hell, I couldn’t think straight.” Before she could protest, he knelt down and brought his face to her core. The moans and whines were enough to fuel him to continue. Her hands wrapped in his hair. Soon enough he could feel that she was almost at her peak by her thrashing and moans.

“Please…please, Alfie…sweetheart, I need you.” She begged.

He stood, wiping her nectar from his lips before ripping off his knickers and crawling above her. They were both ready, having waited for this moment, it was so easy to slip inside her heat. A moan escaped from both of their lips, cementing the pleasure of finally completing one another. Strangely enough, for Alfie, it felt like coming home. Every moan and sigh from her as their bodies moved in tandem only made him want to hear more. He would never tire of her and he would always want her.

After both found their release, they lay on the small bed together, chest to chest, post-coital smiles on both of their lips.

“I missed you.” He quietly confessed, carding his fingers through her hair.

“I missed you too. I am so sorry.”

“S’alright. I got this flat though…that summer…in case, well…you came.”

“Oh sweetheart. I would have if I could.” She kissed his lips gently in apology before tracing her finger over his stubbly cheek. “I bet your landlord will be getting complaints from the neighbors with how loud you were.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “I had you screamin’ me name if you remember. No, the neighbors won’t say nothin’, hard to complain ‘bout the landlord to himself.”

“Wait...you own the building?”

“Ah…fuck, well, s’not a big deal. The last landlord was a bastard and raised the prices again, even though he knew it fuckin’ would put most families on the street, right?”

Shifting so she could straddle him, she traced a hand over his chest, playing with his chest hair as a coy smile betrayed her amusement. “So he just handed the place over to you when you complained?”

“Well we may have had a rather…unpleasant discussion on his part…where some new rules were set.” One hand he placed on her thigh and the other he touched the pendant necklace she still wore as he looked at it. It looked like a simple northern star in gold on a thin gold chain. Nothing remarkable but just because she wore it made it special. “He was a fat, ugly bastard with some deep gambling debt. Tried to force me mum to sleep with him or threatened to toss her on the street.”

“I am surprised he is still alive.”

He chuckled darkly. “He ain’t, but not by me hands, right,. Trussed him up like a pig and delivered ‘im to the men he owed. Under new management this place is, yeah.”

“Alfie Solomons…” She batted her eyelashes at him, a teasing smile slipping through. “…the savior of the lowly.”

“Hell no, just don’t like ‘im thinkin’ of touchin’ me mum.” His hands moved to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples. “When you gotta leave, love?”

Leaning forward, she gave him a deep, open-mouth kiss that caused his cock to hardened just from that alone. “Oh I am nowhere done with you yet. We are going to make this a night you never forget and your neighbors to hate us.” Without prompt, she settled on his hardened cock, tossing her head back erotically at the sensation.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. You’ll be the death of me.”

Words vanished as they lost themselves to the pleasure of their bodies once again.

***

Some time later, they both lay on the bed again. A light sheen of sweat still dampening their naked bodies but neither cared.

“I think I need a drink. Do you have anything to offer a girl?”

“Um, yeah, don’t move.” He dragged himself off the bed, not wishing to tear away his gaze from her but his own stomach was beginning to rumble. Still naked, he darted to the kitchen and grabbed the only bottle of alcohol he kept in his flat and the left over pastries that Sarah brought.

Her eyes scanned his body when he returned, slowly licking her lips. “I could get used to a handsome, naked man bringing me food and drink in bed.”

“At your service, Angel.” He winked, settling himself next to her. Both now leaning back against the headboard, unabashed in their nakedness, legs stretched out still tangled in the blankets.

“No champagne?”

“Not here, love. Just this rum. Don’t let me mum know about it, yeah?”

She took the bottle from him, gave it a sniff before sipping straight from the bottle. A slight grimace betrayed her thoughts which had him laughing. “It is not terrible.”

“That stuff s’fuckin’ awful, love. Piss poor shit really. No, they use fuckin’ awful molasses, too cheap to buy better stuff, right? That would help the flavor and color. Cane sugar ain’t bad but the molasses…” His words ended when he took a sip himself from the bottle. He was surprised when he noticed the curious look he was receiving from her. “Wot?”

“How do you know so much about rum making?” She took the bottle back and sipped from it again, this time controlling her facial reaction.

He shrugged. “Talkin’ to the right people, I suppose. Ain’t hard, just gotta use the good quality ingredients and know how to treat it right, mmm, then its temperature and timing, yeah.”

“You should make your own.”

“What?” He laughed, caught off guard by her statement. Never before had he considered anything remotely close to that. “Where? Here? Who gonna buy the shit I make?”

“I bet it would be better than this stuff.”

“Damn right.”

“Just think about it…I can see you running your own distillery. You have the knowledge to do it and you know enough people that could help you out. It could be another way to make money.”

“You know it’s illegal, yeah?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Not the point.” She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a pastry with chocolate drizzle on it. A fond smile on her face, she took a bite and moaned. “Damn, these are good.”

He leaned over and kissed her deeply, letting his tongue rove into her mouth and taste the chocolate lingering. She returned the passionate kiss, bringing a hand up to cup his face. He pulled back first, licking his lips. “Mmm…those are.”

She laughed, smacking his chest, before finishing off the pastry.

“Why are you really here?”

Now it was her turn to look confused. “What?”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw, unsure why he was spoiling the tranquil moment they had. Something deep in him needed to know the truth. Not the easy answer she had given his mum. “Why are you back in London? You said something to me mum ‘bout being called back by your father.”

“It is nothing. He figured I had been gone long enough.”

He grabbed her chin, tilting her face towards him when she tried to look away. “Try again, Angel.”

“Alfie, it does not matter.”

“Then tell me.”

She jerked her chin out of his hand, turning to stare straight ahead at the wall opposite them. He noticed her fiddling with the pendant but otherwise remained unmoving. Her face was blank, emotionless but he was beginning to learn her and knew she was thinking hard. He slipped a lock of her hair between his fingers, playing with the end and admiring how soft it was. It was several long minutes before she spoke.

“My father received a marriage proposal for me.”

Alfie tried to keep his thoughts and emotions at bay, not wanting to spook her with how much that angered him.

“A few of those women I was with earlier at the tea room…they are some of his family. I was to make a good impression for marriage. It would be an alliance of sorts really between our families.” She took a long draw from the bottle this time, still staring straight ahead. “He is an…well it does not matter. My job is just to look good on his arm in public and please him in his bed…guess that will not happen now with what his mother was yelling earlier.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

She turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

Taking the bottle from her hand, he set it on the floor, eyes never leaving hers. “Fuck ‘em. If they can’t see you for more than that, it ain’t worth it none.” He crawled over her until he hovered above her body, now laid out under him. “Besides, you’re my angel and I’ll bloody well make sure everyone fuckin’ knows it, yeah?”

“How are you going to do that?”

With a wicked smirk, he leaned forward and sucked hard on one of her nipples while tweaking the other between this fingers. Immediately she arched her back, a moan escaping her. With a loud ‘pop’, he released her nipple to switch sides. Her hands carded through his hair, pulling him closer, a soft whine filling the air around them. God, he loved the sounds she made. They were a symphony to his ears. Something he never wanted to forget.

His lips trailed up her chest to her neck, sucking and nibbling as he went causing her to shift underneath him seeking friction. He stopped when he reached her ear. “I’m gonna make you scream me name, yeah? Till everyone hears it and I’m gonna make you mine again and again till you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Promises, promises.”

Oh, he fulfilled that promise...and enjoyed every moment of it.

***

The rest of the night saw them never leaving the creaky, small bed unless necessary. The flat reeked of sex and alcohol. In-between throes of passion, they cuddled, talking and laughing about whatever come to mind. Eventually they finished off the treats she bought at the bakery and the bottle of rum. He shared about his growing reputation amongst the community, his annoyance with some of the younger lads and the local girls his mum kept trying to catch his eye with. The one thing they never talked about was tomorrow or the future, preferring to live in the moment. For both of them, the future only beheld uncertainty.

At some point in the early morning hours, they drifted to sleep tangled up in one another. Alfie woke first, used to rising early. This time he refused to move. He lightly traced her form which was pressed up against him, touching her hair and skin, trying to memorize every curve on her body. He wondered what would become of them now. Soon enough he would be off to war. Only fate knew if he would return to these shores and streets that raised him. And Sarah, his angel…where would she go? Only in the darkness still covering his room, could he admit to himself how perfect this felt. Waking up next to her, having her in his arms and his flat. Yet something continued to draw them apart. Would their paths only ever meet for a short period or would one day they converge and create one single path they both could walk on?

When she woke, they dressed and joked about what the day held for each of them. Trying to keep the mood light and carefree felt almost forced, a heaviness hung unseen and unspoken in the flat alluding to the truth. This may be the last time they saw each other.

If their last bout of passion- him pinning her against the wall in the hallway, head buried between her breasts as she panted his name- felt like a goodbye, neither said anything.

He guided her over the bridge and closer to where she could find a carriage to take her home. They walked next to one another, hands brushing occasionally. Silence hung over them once they left his flat. It was not uncomfortable, more as if words were unnecessary at this point. For what else was there they could truly say?

On a street corner, Alfie waved down a carriage for Sarah. The elderly man spoke with a thick rasp yet friendly as his golden mare stomped impatiently.

He grasped her wrist before she started to climb up, gaining her attention. “Will you write…to me? I reckon I’ll be in France with the other lads, yeah. S’alright if you don’t…just figured I’d ask anyhow.”

“I will. I’ll try to at least. I’m not sure where I’ll be after this, but if I can. I’ll write.”

He nodded, shuffling his feet. He hated good-byes, never quite knew what to say but this felt downright painful.

“Here. I want you to have this.” She took off the thin gold pendant she had been wearing the whole time. “I knew my father would never let me wear the Jewish star, but this star was close enough. I got it to remember you. Its brought me luck since I bought it…hopefully it’ll do the same for you.”

Alfie looked down at the necklace she placed in his palm, the Northern star design simple in gold. Being small, he figured he could easily hide it from others. “Angel, I…”

“No, you come back.” She cupped his face, voice hard and demanding. “That’s an order, soldier. One day you will rule London and I’ll be by your side. Until then, you survive. We will find each other.”

Uncaring of the people around him, he grabbed her and kissed her thoroughly. Whatever words he wished to say but sat stuck in his chest, he poured into that kiss. She pulled him closer, reciprocating with a passion that crossed the line of decency in public.

Eventually they broke apart. With one last longing look, she turned and climbed into the carriage. Immediately the driver flicked the reins and started away. Never once did she look back but he watched until the carriage was gone from view.

Her last words to him felt seared, branded into his soul. Like a kiss from fate, he somehow knew they would come to pass. No matter what happened in this goddamn war, he would survive. He had too.

“I’ll find you, Angel.” He whispered, a promise to himself and her. Tightening his fist around the necklace, he turned and started back towards Camden Town.


End file.
